Longing
by Ellis
Summary: A Quatre & Trowa ficcie; they aren't together *yet*, but they sort of...wonder about each other...


Longing  
Part One  
by Ellis  
  
  
  
Another morning, another day.   
  
Another day filled with the sweet gaze, the tender longing of Quatre.   
  
[Trowa smiled.   
  
Then he faltered slightly.]  
  
But he doesn't know what's he asking for.   
***  
***  
I wonder if he ever notices. If he ever notices me.   
  
I bet he doesn't.   
  
But I…I want him to.   
  
Trowa…why shouldn't you?   
  
[Quatre paused in his work, eyes fluttering closed with the air of hopelessness.]   
  
I must be hoping too much.   
***  
***  
Today Quatre is…distant.   
  
He doesn't include his part in the conversation.   
  
He's avoiding anyone who even tries to make a move to talk to him.   
  
He keeps his eyes low, not bothering the enjoy the sky, the color of…his eyes…  
  
Worst of all, he no longer sees me. His eyes no longer search for me; single me out, and radiate with quiet joy - though I never know why.   
  
Maybe I do.   
  
Maybe I just don't accept.   
  
Maybe.   
***  
***  
I look out my window, with reserved, faraway eyes.   
  
The moon doesn't seem to glow as bright, tonight.   
  
Maybe because I had made my realization, today.   
  
Yes, today…   
  
Trowa. Tall, Latin pilot of Heavyarms, keeper of the jeweled emerald eye, one hidden, of which I wish desperately to see him - both eyes, clearly; nothing in the way.   
  
Him, who makes a spot in my chest ache.   
  
Him, who I adore.   
  
Him, of who I desire to be held by in his arms, to fit into the lank frame.   
  
Him, who…who causes my tears to flow.   
  
Trowa, who I love.  
[Quatre placed his forehead against the cold glass, staring desolately at the dark ocean below, lapping hungrily at the white grains of sand...and, just underneath…jagged black, ominously glaring, are rocks.]   
  
Maybe, just maybe…he has found someone else. Is that why? Is that why, Trowa?   
  
I have but two choices.   
  
I can seek and destroy the one that is my obstacle…Trowa won't have to know, and he'll be free, once more. Once more, just for me.   
  
Or I can disappear all but altogether from his life, his chosen one's life…forever, forevermore.   
  
I choose the latter.   
  
[His faint golden head pulled back from the window, pale hands reach for the silver handles, with intricately carved designs…Quatre gazed at them for a long while, then tore his eyes away. He unhesitatingly, slowly tugged open his window, letting in a strong gust of chilling air, which disturbs his neatly stacked papers on his desk, bringing them to the floor unmercifully. He leaned on his elbows on the sill, the wind rousing his hair wildly. Farther…farther…  
  
…and with a small, wistful sigh he fell.]   
***  
***  
Quatre! My beautiful angel, that shouldn't deserve to see the blood caused by war…  
  
He is gone!  
  
Duo had checked in this morn…thinking of inviting him, along with the rest of us, to a breakfast at a restaurant that had just opened nearby…he wasn't there. Papers were spilled across the floor; but they were of no importance.   
  
They were nothing.   
  
He could've gone nowhere. If he had gone outside without our knowing, he would've tripped the alarm Wufei had put up; no one thought of to tell him, since he rarely, hardly, never goes out at night. P Especially without telling us.   
  
His room was in order, besides the papers…his bed doesn't look slept in, though, the windows closed firmly.   
  
Where can my angel, who hasn't yet fully bloomed, be…?!!   
***  
***  
[Hanging like a ragdoll just thrown out by a child because of lost interest, Quatre hung, caught by a forgiving jut of earth, however little it has caught, pressed tightly against the rocky cliff by the wind.  
  
His black indigo vest had been caught. Cracking open his eyes, layered lightly with salt from the sea, the salt-filled air…he coughed weakly, yearning for warmth.   
  
Warmth…shelter…shelter, shelter in Trowa's arms.]   
  
Damned the one who is unholy as to steal him from me!  
  
{You've chosen this path. You damn yourself. Yourself. 'Tis your own fault, silly one.}   
  
I only wanted to make him happy.   
  
{Killing yourself would make him happy?}   
  
Yes…yes…that way I won't interfere…I won't…get…in…the…way…  
  
{You are fooling yourself, foolish child.}   
  
He won't notice. He never does.  
  
{Liar.}   
  
He doesn't. He doesn't care.  
  
{He does.}   
  
Only as…only as…like the rest of them…just another pilot, another partner, another comrade.  
  
{You think so? Are you confident this is the one who should be your mate? Perhaps he isn't the one.}  
  
Who are you?! How could you think that?!!  
  
{Such a change in character. Not the sweet, innocent little one, Angel of Mercy, now?}   
  
[Tears force their way out of his unnaturally bright, liquid blue eyes.]   
  
No…no…I am not…  
  
{You are. Of course you are.}   
  
But…  
  
{Hush. Look - look upwards, towards the heavens. Perhaps now you should find whether he loves thou, or doesn't.}   
  
***  
***  
[Trowa was looking out the same window, which Quatre fell through, thinking of death, from yester's noon. His hands are holding the windows open stiffly, though, because of the wind, relentless and inexorable.  
  
Somehow he hears his name - soft and faint, said through cracked and dry lips.]   
  
Dare da?   
  
[He looked around sharply, but saw no one. His eyes traveled down, and the green earth meets the blue, blue sky.]   
  
Quatre?  
  
  
Why does he look frightened?   
  
[Trowa, seemingly in slow mo, reached a hand to Quatre, who swung fiercely from the force of the wind.]   
  
It'll be all right, Quatre.   
  
Just take my hand and…   
  
[Trowa screamed. Quatre had slipped once more, from his grasp.   
  
His angel's body lay immobile, on the rocks that threatened to crowd and crush the fragile figure.]  
  
~~~  
  
  
Longing  
Part Two, na no da. ^_^  
by Ellis  
  
  
  
I open my eyes to someone's whispers and light caresses.   
  
[Quatre wriggled a little on his bed, wincing slightly at the pain that coursed through him]   
  
All I see is a mass of brown and glances of sharp green.   
  
"Do you know who you are?" it asks.   
  
Silly.   
  
Of course I do.   
  
I'm Trowa. Trowa Barton.   
  
That's what I manage to croak out to the thing.   
  
What a pain. All this work. Why is everything so heavy? Even my eyelids are beginning to strain.  
  
So I close my eyes once more.   
  
[Trowa's eyes widened in shock, unbeknownst to the other pilots seated behind him.   
  
"What did Quatre say? Did he like the bed?" asked Duo.   
  
"He…he said he was me."   
  
"He said he 'Was me'?"   
  
"No! He said he was Trowa! Me! Trowa!"]   
  
------------------------   
  
I can't believe it. How can he not…how can he not…   
  
I don't understand it. Why did he fall…why did he…   
  
I won't; I refuse. This is not happening.   
  
How can he think he is me?   
  
Who will he think is Quatre? He must get his rightful memory back!   
  
I only hope he will not hallucinate and believe - [Trowa scowled in the privacy of the room where Quatre was laying, having not woken up from last time.] - Duo or one of the others…is…   
  
Perhaps I should have Quatre knocked on the head if he doesn't recover soon.   
  
-----------------------   
  
[Quatre awoke stiff. He turned around sharply at the touch of someone's hand falling gently on his left shoulder, and he gaped in bewilderment, disbelief, and a flicker of fear, a hand flitting to his forehead in a sudden relex, to feel a cloth bandage.]   
  
What is this…? Who is this? Why does he have my body? He cannot be another sibling I do not know of…Catherine is my only one!   
  
…And…if he has my body…whose have I?   
  
[Quatre jerked away from Trowa, glaring down at himself, trying to see the colour of his hair, searching for a mirror to look at himself.]   
  
My…my…I'm Quatre?  
  
What had happened? What had happened? Quatre! Oh, my Quatre!   
  
Will he know my feelings…before I am ready to tell? Before he is ready to know?   
  
Curses…   
  
--------------------------   
  
He doesn't seem to be taking it well.   
  
After moving in abrupt movements, and staring at the mirror against the far wall in horror, Quatre buried his face in his hands, hunched over, trembling slightly.   
  
I awkwardly have the sudden urge to ask him a million questions.   
  
What is he thinking?   
What is he thinking?   
What is he thinking?   
  
  
_________________afterthoughts___________________________________  
  
erm…yes, I know this part is shorter than the first…but I'm getting slow on this fic. *sweatdrop* Not much inspiration!! I also have a lot of other works waiting to be finished, and then I go accept a challenge. *facevault* Oh well…mayhap I will finish someday, ne?  



End file.
